


Language of Flowers

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Bye bye hiatus, Daisy the Bartender, F/M, Language, Phil Coulson loves flowers, Phil the Florist, So much flower symbolism, Too fluffy, Tumblr Prompts, flower shop au, flufffff, with the shitty asshole ex boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: “So, what are you looking for?” Phil asked, clearing his throat and sitting on the stool behind the counter. Marking the date at the top of the page, he looked up at her. “We can start with the message. ‘To,’ ‘from,’ you know.”She shook her head. “I don’t want him to know who it’s from,” she said, before shaking her head again. “I mean, I want him to know, but I probably don’t want it in writing.”





	Language of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> So many flower references! Link to my source at the bottom, as well as any that might not be in the body of the story. From that tumblr prompt we all loved.

Phil Coulson was looking over the last of his orders, ready to close up shop. It had been a long week (as always,) but the work was gratifying (as always.) ‘Wedding season’ was coming to an end, thankfully, so he looked forward to the slight lull he would get before the holidays. Don’t get him wrong, Phil loved working on weddings. There was something terribly romantic about the idea that these couples chose him to help shape their flower arrangements on one of the most important days of their lives. Sure, some people would tell couples (usually when they were stressed, with good intentions) that no one would notice the flowers or the food, but Phil knew both to be false. (One was because of his trade, the other was just a deep appreciation for food.)

Besides, it wasn’t the guests he was working for.

Behind him, he heard the door chime. Phil looked at the clock; fifteen minutes until closing time. Normally a person might be irritated, but he was nothing if not eager to please. Not to mention, as a small business, any customers were valued customers.

_Well, most customers._

Turning around he saw a young woman march up to the counter. She looked like she’d had a long week too. “Hey, you’re still open, right?” She asked, a surprising amount of uncertainty in her voice for someone who looked so confident.

_Tiger lilies and bluebells. Pride and humility._

Phil nodded, smiling pleasantly.

“Have you been here before?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer. He was good with faces, and certain he’d never seen hers before. The girl shook her head, and Phil did his usual cursory glance at her left hand. _No ring, probably not a bride._ It wasn't surprising; usually wedding consultations didn't walk in the door at the last moment of the day. 

She looked a little lost, so Phil handed her a binder with some examples of work he’d done. As she sifted through, he tried to get a read on her. Maybe a birthday present for a parent or significant other? Parents’ anniversary? Something congratulatory, or decorations for a party?

She skipped right by birthdays and congratulations, and, unless he was mistaken, was that a _frown_ at anniversaries?

The woman shut the binder with a sigh, then seemed to remember he was there. “Sorry,” she said, tucking a short dark strand of hair behind one ear. “Do you do custom...things?” She asked, and Phil nodded.

“Of course, what do you have in mind?” He pulled out his notepad before looking at the clock. “Do you actually mind if I put the ‘closed’ sign up? No rush, but after six is when the odder requests tend to come in.”

It wasn’t a lie; he used to have later hours and apparently there was something about a flower shop after sunset that brought out the weirdos. He could have sworn the girl made a face, but instead she nodded profusely and looked at some of the photos on the walls. Phil locked up and turned the sign, moving back behind the counter.

“So, what are you looking for?” He asked, clearing his throat and sitting on the stool behind the counter. Marking the date at the top of the page, he looked up at her. Her brows were furrowed, and she was biting her lip thoughtfully. “We can start with the message. ‘To,’ ‘from,’ you know.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want him to know who it’s from,” she said, before shaking her head again. “I mean, I want him to _know_ , but I don’t want it in writing.”

Not an unusual request, he thought, but she didn’t seem like the secret admirer type. What did he know, though?

“Okay, so what’s the message you want to send him?” Phil asked. She looked at his pen. “Not in the card, with the flowers. What do you want to convey with them?”

The woman tapped her fingers lightly on the counter, considering it. She looked him dead in the eyes. “ _Go fuck yourself_.”

Phil blinked. “Pardon?”

_Begonias. Beware._

In a second the woman turned beet red, waving her hand at him. “No, _no_ , sorry, I didn’t mean you, I meant the flowers. That’s the--the message I want to _convey._ ”

Phil nodded, trying to pretend this _wasn’t_ completely out of the ordinary.

“Okay,” he said, writing ‘ _go fuck yourself’_ in neat cursive on the page. The girl made a little snorting noise before regaining her composure. Phil smiled at her. _Fern. Fascination._

“I should tell you this now,” Phil said, just to be clear straight away. “I’m happy to work on this but I’m not comfortable sending someone something like dead flowers or stems or anything like that. So it would have to be a bit more...symbolic.”

“Symbolic how?” She asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Well, different blooms have different meanings, we can try to put a few together that work for you.” He smiled, a little embarrassed. “That’s sort of my specialty.” She nodded, looking pleased. Phil could feel his face heat up, feeling incredibly nerdy about his trade just then in front of his new bold, young customer.

“Oh, that’s perfect. I wouldn’t ask you to put work into something shitty,” she said. “I mean, the symbolism will probably be lost on him but I’m sure I can make it clearer on my own.”

Amused despite himself--was this an ugly breakup? Didn’t this go against everything he loved about the job? Romance and happiness and milestones?--Phil nodded, listing a couple flowers on the page.

Unless the recipient was familiar with flowers, the message _would_ be lost on him, but the arrangement could be unusual and discordant enough to get the point across that this was no typical bouquet. And it sounded like maybe she had something planned that he might not be privy to.  

Turning the page toward her, Phil watched her look over the list. She raised an eyebrow, which he hoped meant she was impressed. He’d left a few off, for fear of assuming and offending her. _Chrysanthemums, yellow. For slighted love. Marigolds. Cruelty, but also jealousy._

A smile crept onto the woman’s face as she read, and Phil handed her a pen. She smiled wider, accepting it and putting check marks next to some of his selections.

“Geraniums, foxglove, candy tuft, yellow carnations,” Phil read off. _Stupidity, insincerity, indifference, ‘you have disappointed me.’_

She’d left a few of his suggestions off; peonies for shame, orange lilies for hatred, petunias for resentment. Hers wasn’t a burning anger, but simmering below the surface with something else. _Cyclamens_. _Resignation and goodbye._

“Well, it will certainly send a message,” Phil said, picturing the strange arrangement in his head. Maybe not his finest work, but something about this girl and the mystery recipient had him thinking it would be among the most satisfying. She was clever, calculating, with a sense of humor he guessed went unappreciated. There may not be romance, and it may be a different kind of milestone than he was used to, but if nothing else, there was passion. 

“When do you need this by?” He asked, writing up the price estimate on the page and showing her.

“Whenever you have time, I’m in no rush.” She nodded at the price and he dog-eared the page.

“Does Monday afternoon work?” He asked, and she looked at him in surprise.

“Yeah, that would be great,” she said. “Hey, thanks for doing this, I don’t do a lot of flower shopping but I feel like this isn’t your typical order.”

“It’s not,” Phil told her. “But to be honest, I’m kind of looking forward to it.” He smiled, abashed. Sure, part of it was the unusual nature of the job. But mostly he was intrigued by her. Why did she want flowers, he wondered, when she didn’t seem like the type to shy away from being direct? He was happy to take the job though. If he was being truthful, something about her made him really want her to be happy with his work. He was actually pretty excited to get started.

_Forsythia, hyacinth, sprigs of white ivy. Anticipation, rashness, eager to please._

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling then looking away awkwardly. “So, I will be back Monday.” She turned to leave. She reached the door when it hit him.

“Wait,” he called, and she did. “What’s your name? For the order.”

She looked off to the side, an odd expression on her face. “Daisy,” she mumbled, looking away.

Phil stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

***

“What the hell is that?”

Phil looked up from his work, smiling at Mack. “Work,” he said, and Mack looked skeptical.

“You know I don’t know anything about flowers but even I can tell that thing is weird looking,” he said, watching Phil at the work table. He wasn’t wrong.

“It’s for a good cause,” Phil told him blandly, adding in another yellow carnation. He looked at the clock, then at Mack who had seen him looking at the clock.

“Expecting somebody?” From his spot on the stool behind the register, got an eyeful of Phil’s notepad before he was able to snatch it away. “Whoa, who’s getting the hate bouquet?”

As if on cue, the bell above the door jingled. In walked Daisy, wearing a surprising (but very nice) leather jacket. “Hey Phil.”

Even more surprising was the look of recognition on Mack’s face.

“Hey,” he greeted, and Daisy looked equally pleasantly surprised.

“Hey Alfie,” she responded, friendly. Mack scowled.

Pivoting to look at Mack, smiling beatifically, Phil asked: “Alfie?”

This was the best day ever.

Mack sighed, pointing his thumb at Daisy. “She bar tends with Elena,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Speaking of whom,” Daisy said happily, leaning her elbows on the counter and smiling at Mack. “Is that why you’re here?” She looked over at Phil. “Is he buying her flowers? Are there any that say ‘I worship the ground you walk on,’ or, ‘please stop making fun of me to your co-workers?” Phil looked over at Mack, who had turned his back on them completely. He was about to apologize when he saw what the other man was looking at.

“Hey,” he said, but Mack held up the notepad to Daisy.

“Lincoln?” He asked, and Daisy rolled her eyes.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” Mack looked at Phil, who must have looked confused. “Novio, no bueno,” he said, and Daisy narrowed her eyes. “Or so I hear.”

“I know what part of that means,” she said, turning her gaze to the bouquet. “Is that it?” She asked, looking excited.

“It is,” Phil said, giving it one last once-over. “Do you like it?”

“It’s so weird,” she said, staring at the admittedly strange arrangement. “I _love_ it.” Phil beamed, and the two of them just sort of smiled at each other before Daisy shook her head. “Oh, duh, I need to pay you,” she said, her cheeks a little red as she pulled some cash out of her pocket and handed it to him.  

“Oh, thanks,” Phil said, ignoring the look he could just feel coming from Mack. “I have something else too,” he added, opening a drawer and taking it out. “I know you said you didn’t want a message, but I thought just in case…” He trailed off, handing her the crisp note card. In flawless calligraphy he’d written the more literal version of the sentiment.

Daisy’s jaw dropped and she gasped. Was he mistaken or were her eyes sparkling?

_Careful, Phil._

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Daisy gushed, showing a bemused Mack the card. “I might not even give this to him, it’s that pretty. I kinda wanna frame it.”

“Hang it on your wall,” Mack suggested, joking. Maybe. Daisy grinned, and Phil wondered if she really was planning on doing that. He was happy either way, but still terribly curious about the ‘bad boyfriend’ he’d heard so little about.

_That’s none of my business._

The flowers were his business, and that was done. Job over.

He tried to ignore the disappointment that came with that realization as he wrapped the bouquet in paper and tied it with some twine. “Well, here you go,” he said, handing Daisy the flowers. She looked at them thoughtfully, then gave Phil a soft smile that made his heart do something it hadn’t done in a long time.

 _Orchids, gloxinias....sprinkled through a giant arrangement of common daisies._ He pushed the image of the revealing bouquet out of his mind.

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely, before looking at Mack a bit self-consciously. “After this--” she lifted the bouquet slightly-- “I’m working with Elena, you both should come by the bar, keep us company?”

Okay, in _theory_ , in the abstract it could sound like a double date, but that was ridiculous. He barely knew her, she had just ended or was just about to end a relationship, and he had to be twice her age. There was no way. “Sure,” he agreed.

“Awesome, it’s a date.”

 _Okay, but that’s not what she--_ The door chimed and Daisy was already gone.

“I don’t even want to know,” Mack muttered, flipping through Phil's notepad.

***

“Time for you to see _my_ specialty,” Daisy said as Phil sat down at the bar. It was a Monday night, so he understood why she wanted the company. Mack was standing at the end, leaning over the bar and talking closely with Elena. She looked like she was up to something, he looked not nearly as reluctant as he should, if Phil knew Miss Rodriguez.

“Which is?” Phil asked, and Daisy raised an eyebrow. And a bottle.

“Bet I can guess your drink order.”

Intrigued, he looked at the bottle she was holding. “If it involves that, we’re not off to a great start,” he said, eyeing the green liqueur.

Daisy gave him a look. “You severely underestimate me, Mr. Coulson.” She looked down the bar at a woman around his age. “Let me get Deb her key lime pie martini and then I’ll get started on you,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Phil grimaced. “Key lime pie martini?” Daisy nodded, pointing at him.

“Knew you’d react that way,” she said before going off to finish the elaborate (and far too sweet sounding) cocktail. Phil chuckled, spinning his stool slightly to get a good look at the rest of the bar. It was divey, but in a charming way. Definitely not pricey, but they had some good liquor on the shelves. He wasn’t exactly a connoisseur, but he enjoyed a good drink once in awhile.  Catching his eye Elena waved and winked, and Phil waved back at her awkwardly. He got along well with Elena, almost as well as he got along with Mack, but she always seemed to be a step ahead, waiting for them to catch up. It made him nervous sometimes.

“So Bud Light, right?” Daisy asked, and Phil turned back around to face her. In front of him was not, in fact, a Bud Light. “Wow, the underestimating continues.” She slid the glass of what looked like scotch in front of him. Noting his look of approval, Daisy smirked. “First one is on the house. Well, me. I can’t technically give away drinks on the house they sort of frown on that.” Whatever objections he was about to voice, Daisy silenced them with a hand. “The flower arrangement, while not free, was priceless. Please, let me."

Phil nodded, and Daisy lifted her water bottle up. “Cheers,” she said, and Phil tapped his glass against her bottle.

“Cheers.”

About three drinks in, Mack tapped Phil on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m going to head out, you need a ride?” Phil looked at his phone and saw the time.

“I probably should,” he said, looking over at Daisy apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was keeping you so long.” He had sort of been talking her ear off (though to be fair, it was pretty even,) not noticing the time pass.

Daisy looked at him skeptically, waving at the rest of the (practically empty) bar. “Yeah, you’re really interfering with my business, Phil.”

Grabbing his coat, just slightly wobbly, Phil wondered how many old drunks talked at the pretty-- _beautiful,_ his brain corrected--bartender like he just had. Poor woman. It was a nice conversation though. Surprisingly they didn’t talk about the ex-boyfriend once, she seemed to have closed that chapter completely. Phil thought that was pretty admirable, but then again, he was beginning to realize that everything Daisy did seemed admirable to him. He was admiring. He was an admirer.

 _Okay, time to go home_. Phil waved to Daisy and Elena, heading out the door to give Mack a moment to say goodbye. Pushing the door open he took a couple deep breaths. It was a bit chilly, but in a good way. His pleasantly buzzy brain quieted down slightly. The door opened behind him and Phil turned to greet Mack.

“You’re not Mack.”

“Nope,” Daisy said, closing the door behind her. She looked a little awkward, and it struck Phil how much it was like when she first walked into the store. All confidence, followed by uncertainty. Like she was imposing on him just by being there.

“So, I’ll see you later?” Daisy asked, catching his attention.

“Yeah,” he answered, not really capable of a more eloquent answer. “Yeah, we’ll-we’ll talk.”

Daisy grinned. “Cool,” she said, and Phil felt a lopsided smile form on his face.

“ _Cool,_ ” he repeated, and something about it made Daisy laugh.

He liked her laugh, too.

Not quite knowing what was getting into him (three glasses of good scotch on a relatively empty stomach?) Phil reached up and tucked a lock of wavy hair behind her ear. He liked her hair, it was pretty, but kind of unruly. Just like her. Scanning her face for any sign of displeasure or discomfort and finding none, Phil leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers.

Daisy didn’t push him away, but she didn’t kiss him back either. On a slight delay, it took Phil a moment to notice and he pulled back quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back. “I was--sorry.” His head spun, and he wondered if he had really just done that. Made a pass at this nice young woman who probably just wanted to be friendly, who had _just_ broken up with her boyfriend. A boyfriend he had indirectly helped her dump.

“No, don’t be,” Daisy told him, about a million possible emotions in those wide brown eyes. Surprise, sure, but if it was pleasant or unpleasant he wasn’t sure. “I just--I feel like it’s kind of unethical for me to feed you drinks then, you know, that.” She finished, pointing awkwardly at her mouth for a second before realizing how weird it looked and dropping her hand.

“No, you’re right, I’ve been drinking I shouldn’t--I don’t--” Phil noticed a slight frown form on Daisy’s face. God, he must sound drunker than he felt. “We’re not--” What exactly was he trying to say here? Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming out clearly.

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed, but still looked a little unsure. “But listen, if--”

Because it just wasn’t their night for finishing a damn sentence, Mack stepped out of the bar. “See you later,” Daisy repeated, smiling at Mack before walking into the bar and closing the door behind her.

***

Phil was finishing up the design for a birthday/apology arrangement (“Happy Birthday Mom, Sorry about the garden gnomes, love Kelly,”) when the door to his shop chimed. He looked at the clock--ten minutes to closing. Any other day he would be fine with it, but his head was aching and he had been re-living his embarrassment of the previous night all day so all he really wanted was to close up and crawl into bed early.

“Can I help you?” He asked, turning around.

“Hey,” Daisy said, striding over to the counter.

“Uh, hey.” Phil’s eyes widened, but he tried to keep his cool. “Listen, I’m sorry abou--”

“Do you make custom arrangements?” Daisy interrupted, flipping through his portfolio without actually looking at it.

“Yes?” He said, hesitantly. What was she up to?

“Okay, can I tell you what I want?” She asked, and Phil just nodded, taking out his pen and notepad. “So it’s to this guy named Phil, you don’t need to say who it’s from. He’s a smart guy, he’ll figure it out.” Phil just kind of stared at her, not sure what was happening, and Daisy gestured pointedly to his notepad. Smiling slightly, Phil wrote it down.

“For flowers, I was thinking about…” Daisy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if trying to remember something. “Gardenias, definitely gardenias.”

_You’re lovely._

“Gardenias,” Phil repeated, writing it down.

“I’ll probably want to include some, uh, camellias? Yeah, throw some camellias in there too if you can. White ones.”

_You’re adorable._

“Anything else?” Phil asked, biting back an embarrassingly large smile. Daisy grinned back, but cleared her throat and put on a serious face. She was sticking to the act.

“I was wondering, maybe some daffodils?” She asked, looking down at the counter and tapping her fingers.

Phil’s brow furrowed.

“Daffodils?”

_Unrequited love._

Daisy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking nervous suddenly. “Yeah. Uh, do you think I should include those?”

Phil shook his head slowly. “No, probably not.”

“No?” Daisy asked, hope and relief flooding her face as her shoulders slumped slightly. Phil continued shaking his head, standing up as Daisy leaned over the counter and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“No, those would be terrible,” he said, before Daisy silenced him with a kiss. It was awkward but perfect, the table between them _just_ too wide for it to be comfortable but not enough that he truly cared. Definitely didn't care when she deepened the kiss. In that case he would be quite happy to throw his back out leaning over the counter if need be. 

“Hey, I like daffodils,” Daisy murmured quietly against his cheek after a while, and Phil caught his breath right next to her ear. 

"Eh," he shrugged. “I like daisies better.”

Daisy froze completely. 

“You did _not_ just--”

“Sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gloxinia - Love at First Sight
> 
> Orchid - Love; Beauty
> 
> All flower meanings (and title) from here: http://thelanguageofflowers.com/  
> Feel free to ignore the season/availability markers beeecause I sure did!
> 
> Original tumblr post (my reblog) here: http://brilliantlyhorrid.tumblr.com/post/150315775938/flower-shop-au


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